


Mr. Trickster Does Not Like Pretty Boy Angels

by EstelUndomiel (capn_cecil_ang)



Series: Destiel 'spur of inspiration' one-shots [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Appearance Appreciation, Attempt at Humor, Dean Winchester Thinking, Dean Winchester in Denial, Gabriel fucks with Dean (unintentionally), Light-Hearted, M/M, Oblivious Castiel (Supernatural), POV Dean Winchester, Post-Episode: s05e08 Changing Channels, Third Wheel Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27689150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capn_cecil_ang/pseuds/EstelUndomiel
Summary: On the second thought, getting hit in the nuts might have been lesser torture than what Dean Winchester has to suffer through now.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Destiel 'spur of inspiration' one-shots [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679482
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	Mr. Trickster Does Not Like Pretty Boy Angels

**Author's Note:**

> To get in the mood for this fic, watch the expression Dean makes after the host in Nutcracker! says Cas is a pretty boy angel, lol.

It is Thursday evening in late autumn. Not that it matters much to Dean Winchester. His job isn't the regular nine to five. So he hardly ever differentiates days in the week. It is either a day when they are on the case or the day when they aren't. Sometimes it is the day when they are running for their lives, but this isn't it. This is the first day. 

Yet still, something is different. In fact, this is a day shortly after their last encounter with Trickster. An encounter amusing for onlookers, but not so much for Sam and Dean. Or even for their friend, Castiel. Trickster outdid himself this time, trapping the Winchesters in the TV land. Fun for him, for sure. Probably the best prank he has ever made. But for Sam and Dean, it was torture. And even though they escaped the all too realistic fake land eventually, certain moments still stuck in Dean's mind. One of the bigger ones is that Trickster was an archangel Gabriel all this time. But it isn't the one that is bothering Dean the most. If Gabriel knew about the moment that really stuck in Dean's mind, he'd feel better about how their confrontation went. He would find it hilarious, even. Because despite everything that happened to Dean during those moments in TV land, only one thing keeps torturing him even now, days after their escape. It is nagging, and nagging, to the point he can't even pay attention to the obituaries on the screen. Researching the local deaths, he wants to find the connection between murdered men. But though he is trying to focus on the articles' words, his mind keeps slipping back to their TV adventure. And to one moment, in particular.

Sam and Dean were both standing on the platforms, their feet trapped in heavy metallic boots. An ominous lever was displayed in front of them, one that slammed into Sam's groin seconds ago. Dean looked around, noticing a similar lever in front of himself. Oh, he'll be damned if he let that thing do the same to him. Suddenly, a bang sounded behind the massive blue door, making everyone in the studio alert. Someone was behind them. Another bang, and another, _that_ _someone_ trying to get inside the fake Japanese studio by force. And when the door opened all of a sudden, Dean's heart jumped with joy. It was Castiel, walking in like a hero they needed. Even his trench coat was floating behind him like a cape. According to him, they were missing for days, and he was looking for them all over. Well, now that he was here, Dean knew everything will be alright. He could just zap them away from this ridiculous montage of bad TV. But Dean's joy was short-lived when suddenly, Castiel vanished. Just disappeared. As if someone changed the channel. Dean only had a second to think when the Asian host walked forward, shaking his finger in disapproval. 

"No, no, no, no, no." he said, with a thick Japanese accent, "Mr. Trickster does not like pretty boy angels."

That sentence kept circling in Dean's mind over and over, three different thoughts occurring as a reaction. The first two were useful thoughts, ones that every expert hunter should have after such an implication. They were: _How does Trickster know Cas is an angel?_ And: _If he doesn't like him, that means... he has to know him._ Those were beneficial thoughts. Ones that could lead them closer to solving the problem at hand. But the third thought, the one that mixed in with the other two, was rather unusual. It was... weird. And the thought was: _Wait a minute... is Cas... pretty?_

Now, this wasn't a usual hunter's thought. It wasn't a typical guy though either, Dean might protest. Despite that, it was there, and it kept coming back every time Dean thought about Castiel now. 

Staring at the computer screen, Dean realizes he is reading the same line again and again. He can't help it, his mind clouding with the memory of a Japanese reality show. _What did he even mean?_ he thinks. _Did he mean Cas is a pretty angel or that his vessel is pretty? And uh… is Cas' vessel pretty?_ Dean frowns, the words on the screen mixing into one massive blob. _Cas's vessel is a dude. Why are you even thinking about this?_

"Goddammit," Dean murmurs to himself, rubbing his eyes.

"Did you say something?" Sam looks up from the book he is researching, eyebrows shooting up.

"Nah," Dean grunts, shutting the laptop off. "I uh, need some fresh air. Gonna get some grub. Tacos sound good to ya?"

"Uh, sure," Sam shrugs, watching as Dean walks around the room, looking for the keys and his wallet. "Did you find anything in the obituaries?"

"What?" Dean gaps at him, his mind blank. "Oh, yeah," he shakes his head when he remembers. "No. I mean, not yet. No… uh, no connection."

"Right," Sam nods, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. He watches his brother pat himself down, trying to find the car keys, even though they sit right next to him on the wardrobe. "Well, you can keep looking when you come back."

"Uh, yeah, sure," Dean says, his eyes finally noticing the keys. Grabbing them he walks out of the motel room and into the chilly evening.

Forty-five minutes and two beers later, Dean is sitting in Impala, in front of the cheap motel room. A bag of his and Sam's dinner is on the seat next to him, the engine already turned off. The light is coming from their room, a visible silhouette of his brother behind the curtains. He is talking to someone. Dean sees his hands moving in vague gestures. And his stomach clenches when he does the math, coming up only with one person who can be there with Sam.

_Stop fussing over it._ Dean chastises himself. But fussing over it is everything he did for the past forty-five minutes. Dean tried everything: driving, drinking, even flirting with women. But the intruding thoughts about Castiel's appearance kept coming back. So meeting the embodiment of these thoughts face to face doesn't sound like an appealing idea. But Dean Winchester never backed away from a fight. And he sure as hell isn't starting now.

_I never thought he's hot._ Dean assures himself. _I don't consider any man hot._ He tries to persuade himself, but his mind betrays him immediately when a not very distant memory of meeting Dr. Sexy appears. Dr. Sexy, with his long brown hair. _No, not the hair._ Dean makes a grimace. _They're too similar to Sam's. So not the hair. But his white lab coat, and his cowboy boots..._ Dean's stomach does a flip.

"Son of a bitch," he curses, punching the wheel of Impala. "That was different, alright?" he exclaims. "I'm… I don't have a crush. It was more like a… a… I was star-struck, okay? YES, THAT'S IT! STAR-STRUCK!" he shouts, overpowered with the joy of rationalization. When he comes to his senses though, he glances around quickly, checking the parking lot for any onlookers. A woman in her forties is waiting by another car, giving him a strange look. 

"Right," Dean says, clearing his throat. "Stop fussing over it."

He gets out of the car, waving awkwardly at the woman waiting. _Stop acting like Sam._ A voice sounds in his head, and Dean puts his hand down, unsure of what to do now. The woman gives him another strange look, then turns towards the motel room and shouts: "Rog, are you going to be long?"

Dean nods, clicking his tongue. "Right. Awkward." Then he turns and walks inside his and Sam's room. Grunting a hello to his brother and an angel sitting on Sam's bed, Dean puts the bag with food on the table. Then he sits opposite Sam and starts to pull out the contents of their dinner.

"So, what's bringing you here, Cas?" Dean asks, trying to focus his eyes on the food in front of him. _Just don't look at him, and you'll be fine._

But the moment he finishes the thought, his eyes slip, drawn to the angel by their own will. And Dean can see Castiel's lips moving. He knows he is saying something. And he even hears the low rumble of Cas's voice somewhere in the distance. But it is far away from where Dean is right now.

_Oh, come on. He's not even hot._ Part of him wants to persuade the other. _He looks like a freaking pervert in that coat._ Dean's eyes look Cas up and down slowly, taking in every nook and cranny of how that trench coat fits over the body of Castiel's vessel.

_Yeah, maybe..._ he muses in his mind. _Or maybe he looks like an old-time detective._ A small smirk appears on Dean's face. _Which is kinda… no, don't say hot!_ Dean stops himself, gritting his teeth. He wants to look away. To look anywhere but at Castiel. But his eyes refuse to leave the features of the dark-haired man.

Then a frown appears on Dean's face. _He looks dorky. When is dorky ever sexy?_ But his eyes travel upward, from Castiel's coat to his unbuttoned shirt and blue tie. _Yeah... except._ Dean's other part insists. _The way he wears that tie, all backward and loose. One button undone, like a teasing..._

Now he is looking at Castiel's neck, his Adam's apple moving as the angel is still talking. Green eyes lock on Castiel's lips for a moment, content in watching them move and form words. Words he doesn't register.

_He has a firm jawline._ Dean catches himself thinking, not able to stop anymore. _And those lips... they look so soft._ He swallows a lump that formed in his throat, licking his lips. _That stubble. I wonder… how it would feel…_ he runs a hand through his own. And then, finally, his eyes travel even further up, meeting with the wide blue ones, staring back at him. Dean swallows hard again, feeling the familiar sensation in his neither region. _Why does it always feel like he's looking right inside me?_

Blue eyes squint and Castiel frowns. A smirk appears on Dean's face. _That frown of his. It's... adorable._ Licking his lips once again, Dean's eyes continue their journey of Castiel's heavenly features. They roam for a moment before they land on Castiel's dark curls, thinking of the way they are constantly tousled.

_Actually, suppose he put on some glasses. He'd look like a sexy librarian... after an intense make-out session behind the bookshelves._

An image appears in Dean's mind, accompanying the last thought. But soon his vision gets restricted when a giant hand appears in front of his eyes. He blinks, shaking his head. Realizing the hand belongs to his brother, he shakes his head again.

"Dude, you okay?" Sam asks, waving his fingers in front of Dean, trying to get his attention.

"Uh-what?" Dean blinks, focusing his eyes on Sam. "Uh, yeah, What's up?"

"Did you listen to the word Cas said?" Sam asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Sure," Dean nods. Licking his lips, he glances towards Castiel, a sheepish look on his face. There's a deep frown on Castiel's face, his look suspicious. 

"Uh, okay, no," Dean admits, smirking to lighten the moment.

Before anyone can say anything else, Castiel stands up from the bed, gaining the attention of both Winchesters.

"I am sorry, I have to go now," he says. "But I am sure Sam will refer everything I said to you, Dean." When Dean blinks, Cas is gone again, without uttering another word.

Dean just stares at the space that was seconds ago occupied by Castiel. _I'll never get used to this teleporting crap._ He thinks. But he is thrown back to reality right after when Sam clears his throat. 

"Dude, what was that?" Sam asks, frowning at him. "You were just staring at Cas like you were hypnotized or something."

"Yeah, I," Dean starts, thinking about how to continue. "I uh, just can't seem to think straight lately."

If Sam's stiffened chuckle is any indication that he is not as inconspicuous as he thinks, Dean doesn't really notice.

The rest of the evening goes well for Dean Winchester. Mainly because no more angels show up in their motel room. And especially not the ones in trench coats that make him have bizarre funky thoughts. And no trench-coated angels equal an excellent evening in Dean Winchester's book. So when the time comes for Dean to turn in for the night, he does all the usual rituals and lays down on the bed. Feeling rather tired, he is expecting to fall asleep immediately. But even twenty minutes later, he is still too alert to sleep. 

Dean is lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. His brother didn't move from his spot at the table the whole evening, too consumed in research. All he did is exchange the books for the computer and is now scrolling through the obituaries. A pinch of guilt nags at Dean as he remembers finding that information was his task for the day. But the feeling goes away swiftly when he remembers why he didn't look through them. He was too busy thinking about how Castiel is not pretty. And now he is consumed by the image of dark curls and blue eyes again, preventing him from falling asleep. He sees them clearly in front of him, boring into his soul like two neon lights. But even though their stare could be intense, Dean has to admit, they are beautiful. A memory of Castiel, sitting in Impala next to him, glancing at him in the midday sun, comes back. And the way the sun touched the glass that day, the way it reflected in his eyes, it made them sparkle uniquely. And although Dean tries to suppress this part of the memory, he remembers his stomach doing an all too familiar flip at that sight. Dean sighs and groans, sitting up on the bed. _God, this is stupid._

Sam looks up from the computer, raising his eyebrows at him.

"Dude, you alright?" he asks, the second time this day.

And Dean, with no hesitation or context, blurts out at him, a serious expression on his face: "Sam. Do you think Cas is pretty?"

"What?" Sam scoffs, his face stuck between a frown and a grin.

"What?" Dean repeats casually, shrugging. He says nothing else, just stares at his brother, waiting for an answer. It is not like he is in any hurry to repeat the question.

"Uh, where is this coming from?" Sam asks, confused.

"Just… answer the question," Dean says, insisting.

"Uh, well," Sam starts, vague gestures accompanying his words. "I mean, he's definitely attractive. It's uh… kind of hard to explain, but I suppose it's not just the vessel Cas is embodying. It's like he has this dominant energy around him, but it's also very pure, almost naïve. That could probably make him intriguing in someone's eyes, I suppose."

Dean thinks about Sam's words for a long moment, mulling them over in his mind. _Dominant, but also naïve._ Dean hums, staring into the empty space in front of him. _Badass, but also pure. Hot, but also adorable._ He muses. _Right. He's… clueless. That's it. Clueless about how hot he is. That's what makes him so hot._

"So… why are you asking this?" Sam's voice tears him away from his thoughts.

"What?" Dean gaps at him, confused. "Oh, nothing. No one… I mean, whatever," he waves him off again. "Did you find anything about the case?"

The case turns out to be witches, targeting unfaithful men. When they have all the leads, it is pretty cut and dry. But even though they deal with them rather quickly, it is too late to drive that day already. So they decide to stay in the motel one more night, leaving in the morning. 

It is around half-past eleven now, and Dean is sitting on his bed, channel surfing. Sam is reading the book at the kitchen table, occasionally sipping from the beer. Suddenly, a whooshing of the wind sounds, making Dean's eyes immediately follow it. The remote control left forgotten in his hand when he sees Castiel standing in the middle of the room. 

And Dean's mind goes blank right away, thinking back at Sam's words. _He nailed it._ Dean thinks. _He's so… it's frustrating how out of clue he looks._ Dean lets his eyes roam over Castiel's face, scrutinizing every inch. _I just want to grab those thick hair and…_ he feels his stomach doing the flip again, his heart pounding. It seems to him like the room's heat turned up all of a sudden, and his breathing got shallower. _How can he make me feel like my entire body is on fire, just with one look?_

Dean adjusts himself on the bed as he feels his pants getting tighter. _And he doesn't even freaking know he's doing it._ His eyes fall on Castiel's lips and another thought flashes through his mind. _Why do I want to hear him moaning my name while I mark his neck with my teeth?_ Dean's breath hitches in his throat, as another urge of his comes to the light of the day. _I want to feel that stubble prickle against mine as I kiss him._ He thinks, licking his lips.

Castiel stands in the middle of the room, his eyes squinting, brows furrowed, and head tilted. His usual triad of confused expression. Sam watches him and Dean staring at each other for a moment, but when he realizes this could go on for another few minutes, he returns to his book. After all, he is almost at the end of the chapter.

"Sam?" Castiel tries the younger Winchester when the older doesn't respond to his question.

"Hm?" Sam hums, not leaving his eyes from the book. Few more lines.

"How certain are you, you took care of those witches? I am concerned, Dean might be under some kind of a spell."

Sam finishes the last sentence and closes the book with a loud bang. Standing up, he walks to the angel, sighing heavily. 

"He is under a spell, Cas," he says, clasping Castiel's shoulder comfortingly. "Yours."


End file.
